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Weekly Contest #340
The wind is loud today. It pushes my hair into my eyes and makes the swings squeak like they’re talking to each other. I wish it would stop. Mommy said I could play until she came back, but not if it got too windy. She doesn’t like it when the wind is loud. “I’ll be quick,” she said, kneeling in front of me and fixing my jacket zipper. “I just need to buy the things for your cake. Then we’ll go home and make it together.” I like making food with Mommy. I get to pour things, and sometimes she lets me lick the spoon even though she pretends sh...
Weekly Contest #332
The cold had a way of sneaking into November mornings, settling into the bones of the city long before anyone was awake enough to notice. It was the kind of cold that stole warmth from fingertips, froze breath to fog, and made even sunlight look thin. But that morning, something about the light was different—sharper, clearer, almost theatrical as it cut through the brittle air. It landed directly on the small neighborhood flower shop at the corner of Bramble Street, the only spot of color in a row of gray apartment blocks. Frost clung to th...
Weekly Contest #329
CW: Mental health, Physical violence Nora spilled sugar again. A thin rattle of grains scattering across the table was the first thing she heard that morning—her hands trembling too much to control the spoon. Half a teaspoon. She never managed half a teaspoon anymore. She stared at the mess for a moment. Left it. No one else came here anymore. And she didn’t have the energy to pretend she lived a tidy, functioning life. Jeans, a loose black T‑shirt, sneakers. Hair yanked into a careless ponytail. No mirror, no bra—no point. Her mother used t...
Weekly Contest #327
“Men don’t always make the right choice, darling” I say, stirring honey into her tea. The scent of herbs simmers from the cauldron behind me — rosemary, mugwort, a trace of something darker. Smoke from the burning sage curls around us, and when I inhale, it burns my throat. It always does. Reminds me of that night. The fire. I steady my breath and add, “Sometimes they just need to be guided.” Ellie looks small at my kitchen table, fingers tracing the rim of her cup. My beautiful, clever girl. She reminds me so much of myself at her age — tha...
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